


Dust Out the Demons

by SeemaG



Series: Tightrope [4]
Category: Star Trek: Deep Space Nine, Star Trek: Voyager
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Episode: s01e01 Caretaker, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-09
Updated: 2020-07-09
Packaged: 2021-03-05 01:33:49
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 5,891
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25156297
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SeemaG/pseuds/SeemaG
Summary: Hours before Voyager heads into the Badlands, the ship docks at Deep Space Nine. Tom Paris makes connections, but also learns the hard way that the past is always in the present. Alternate universe.
Relationships: Tom Paris/Veronica Stadi
Series: Tightrope [4]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1797067
Comments: 22
Kudos: 25





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks to Rocky for the beta.

Tom Paris stretched out lazily, his eyes half closed, as he rolled towards the woman in the bed next to him. Her dark hair was splayed out on the white pillow, and her eyes were dark and intense, drawing him in. He felt like he was drowning.

“Hi,” she said, her voice husky. She reached her arms above her, enough so that the sheet slipped off her, exposing the length of her body. Catching his breath, Tom accepted the invitation. He rolled over, nudging her legs open with his knee.

“Hi yourself,” he whispered before kissing her. Her fingers were in his hair, and then down his back, before reaching between his legs. Her grip was firm, insistent, as she drew him closer. He kissed the side of her breast before taking the nipple into his mouth. She tasted so good to him. “Sleep well?”

“Do you always talk this much?” Veronica Stadi asked. She moved her hands to his shoulders, pushing him down and lower.

He lifted his head slightly to ask, “Are you always in a rush?”

Her red lips turned up slightly. “I know what I want.”

Thirty minutes later, they were in the shower, Tom slicking soap on Veronica’s back. Her skin was smooth and soft, and the soap smelled of lilac. She turned towards him and dropped to her knees, her hands clasped on the backs of his thighs, as she took him into her mouth. Tom groaned as he braced himself, palms flat against the wall, his eyes closing in pleasure.

After they were dressed, Veronica cleared the table off with a brisk efficiency; the PADDs detailing known routes through the Badlands plus comprehensive “weather” reports were shunted to the side. Tom recycled the two empty wine bottles. He had the faintest of headaches, likely a souvenir of the Merlot wine they’d indulged in the night before, but it wasn’t so intense that an analgesic wouldn’t take care of. Veronica handed him a cup of coffee.

“Any plans to explore the station?” Tom asked. _Voyager_ had docked at Deep Space Nine just a few hours previously as a last stop prior to leaving for the Badlands later that evening. The plan was to re-supply as well as to pick up a few additional crew members.

Veronica shook her head. “Sorry. All day meeting for the senior staff.” Her gaze darted to the chronometer on the chest of drawers behind him. “Captain Janeway wants us to review all of the plans again, do a last-minute check of operations. You know the drill.”

“Sounds fun,” Tom said in a voice that implied the exact opposite.

Veronica shrugged. “This is the biggest mission of my life.” She came to the side and rose on her toes to place a light kiss on his cheek. “I don’t want to be distracted.”

Tom considered for a moment and then decided to go with the answer that would maximize pleasure and minimize pain. “Nor do I.”

“This was fun,” Veronica said, tipping her head towards the bed. She placed her hands on Tom’s hips, pulling him close, her intention very clear to him. “Maybe we can do this again sometime.”

“If it’s not too distracting.”

“Hmm,” Veronica said, her lips parting just enough to show the glint of perfect white teeth. “Depends on how persuasive you can be.”

Tom leaned forward. “Oh, I think you’ll find that’s one of my talents.”

Veronica’s smile grew even more suggestive. “We’ll keep in touch then.” She put her coffee mug down. “I’ve got to get to the bridge.” Her expression and tone changed immediately, more businesslike, as if nothing had happened between them. As if they had simply spent the last eight hours doing nothing more than reviewing flight plans. Tom followed Veronica out of her quarters. In the turbolift, she asked for deck one, where the bridge was located; he went to deck nine.

His quarters were spacious – a large room that accommodated a sofa, a table for two, and a desk. A chest of drawers was pushed up against the wall opposite from the replicator. Off to the side was a small sleeping area. He shrugged out of yesterday’s uniform and put on a clean one, and then located an analgesic in the small medkit he found in the bathroom. Typical Starfleet regulation, he thought with a grin. No matter how much some things changed, others remained comfortingly the same. If he closed his eyes, he could pretend that he was back on the _Exeter_.

As the analgesic took hold, chasing his headache away, Tom settled on the sofa and studied the PADD the first officer, Jeremy Cavit, had given him. His first and only task on the previous day had been to meet with Veronica Stadi and go over the flight plans with her. Today, his schedule was alarmingly free. He frowned. _Voyager_ was set to depart for the Badlands at 2100 hours, and yet he was not scheduled to be on the bridge at that time. He thought about asking Kathryn - Captain Janeway - but she’d made it clear to him that Commander Cavit would oversee his schedule.

“Because you wouldn’t want to be seen as showing favoritism,” Tom had told her in their one meeting shortly after departing Utopia Planitia. He’d stood in her Ready Room, at attention, while she was on the other side of the desk. The formality was necessary.

“No, because I wouldn’t want to undermine my first officer,” Janeway had answered coolly. “Crew schedules are the first officer’s purview.”

Now, Tom scrolled to the next day and again, his schedule was empty. In frustration, he threw the PADD against the wall. What was the point of being on _Voyager_ if he was going to be sidelined? If his only contribution was the pre-launch meeting he’d had with Cavit and a review of flight plans with Veronica, then what was the point of bringing him on board? He strove to calm down as he realized once again that he had no choice, no say in the matter. The alternative was a penal colony outside of Auckland. He set his jaw. He would spend his three weeks aboard _Voyager_ being as helpful as Cavit allowed, and then once the mission was over, he would take his freedom and disappear.

Since he had nothing better to do, he might as well go and investigate the station.


	2. Chapter 2

Tom passed through security easily enough and then stopped to consult the information he’d downloaded before leaving the ship. His first stop was to change some credits into gold-pressed latinum, the currency of choice for non-Federation establishments on the station.

Deep Space Nine, the newest of Starfleet’s stations, had formerly been built by the Cardassians and had passed into Federation control less than two years ago. The station’s personnel was a good mix of Starfleet and Bajoran militia, and the civilians, which in addition to the Bajorans, included Andorians, Bolians, Ferengi, Klingons, and humans, seemed to be among the most diverse Tom had ever seen on a Federation station.

He passed by a group of Bajoran militia standing in front of a security station. The sight of the Bajorans in positions of authority on the station built by their oppressors was a convincing sign of justice being served. There seemed to be absolutely no attempt to convert the aesthetic of the station – such as the the ‘horns’ extending outward from the pylons -- from its Cardassian roots, something that seemed strange to Tom. From the little his father had said about the Cardassians and their brutality, it seemed incredible that the Bajorans would let that symbol of their captors remain. Tom knew what the Cardassians had done to his father couldn’t hold a candle to the brutal and systematic 50 years’ worth of occupation of an entire planet.

Tom’s stomach grumbled loudly, jerking him out of his ruminations. There were many restaurants on the station featuring a wide variety of cuisines, and Tom knew this would his last chance for a non-replicated meal until _Voyager_ ’s return. The Klingon restaurant caught his eye. He’d only tried Klingon cuisine once before, and while he preferred his food dead, or at least motionless when he ate it, he had enjoyed some of the flavors of the vegetables and breads. But his desire to experiment with Klingon food faded as he saw another option: Quark’s. He’d heard about this bar, run by a Ferengi. It sounded just like the type of establishment Tom Paris had preferred between the time he’d been kicked out of Starfleet and when he’d met Chakotay. A bar with Dabo girls and plenty of options for drink, not to mention holosuites for more personal pursuits.

He headed towards Quark’s, still thinking about Veronica. She was beautiful and sexy, and he loved feeling her skin against his. There was something so sensual about her, and he loved that she didn’t seem to have any expectation of him. It had felt good to make that physical connection; it had been months since he’d last touched a woman. He figured they’d probably get together a few more times, and then at the end of the mission, go their separate ways. At some point, he just needed to verify that Veronica felt the same.

At Quark's, patrons were spilling out the door and onto the Promenade. There were plenty of Starfleet officers mixed in with civilians, but no one Tom recognized. Which didn’t surprise him, to be honest. He’d met very few people aboard _Voyager_ – most of his time had been spent debriefing Cavit, and then there had been the extra-long debriefing with Veronica. Because he was alone, he was able to find a seat at the bar quickly.

“What do you want?” the Ferengi bartender asked.

“What do you have?” Tom asked easily.

The Ferengi smiled. “Anything you want.” He leaned forward. “You know, there’s a spot free at one of the dabo tables in the back.” He pointed. “Aranza has the next hour free and she’s quite skilled at making our customers feel comfortable.”

Tom twisted around to see where the bartender was pointing. A woman with long flowing blue and silver hair fluttered her fingers at him. She was very skimpily dressed in sheer clothing that left nothing to the imagination. Tom considered before deciding against it.

“She’s very beautiful,” Tom said carefully, “but I’m about to leave on a mission.”

“Which is the exact reason why you should spend time with Aranza,” the bartender said earnestly. “Especially if you’ll be gone a long time.”

“Nah,” Tom said, waving away the comment, “just a few weeks.” He flashed the bartender a smile. “Do you have any double-aged whiskey?”

“Just got some in from Cestus Three last week.”

“Perfect.” Tom pushed a strip of gold pressed latinum towards the bartender. “I’d like it neat please.”

The bartender put the drink in front of him and Tom took his time savoring it. In the past, he would have quickly downed this glass and ordered more, but he thought better of it now. His gaze fell on Aranza again. She smiled seductively at him. _Hell with it_ , Tom thought. _How much harm could a spin or two at the Dabo table do_? He picked up his drink, wove his way through the crowd settling in for their post-lunch entertainment, and settled in the seat next to Aranza. She leaned against him readily, her long fingers settling on his thigh.

“I’m so glad you decided to come over,” she said in a voice that just shy of a purr. “What’s your pleasure—” she glanced at his collar and seemed disappointed at the lack of insignia. “What you want me to call you?” she leaned closer. “How about ‘Admiral’?”

Tom suppressed a laugh. _As if_. “You can call me Tom.”

Aranza seemed a little bit taken aback. “Now what’s the fun in that? Are you sure that you aren’t looking for something more?”

“You assume that because I’m in uniform and without rank that I’m acting out a fantasy?”

His bluntness seemed to take the woman by surprise. “You wouldn’t be the first one,” she said, and thought he detected a note of pity in her voice. She pressed up against him. “But I’m very good at fulfilling fantasies. Whatever you want, whatever you like.” She leaned forward, her tongue lightly outlining the contours of her mouth. “You’ll find I’m quite skilled.” Her fingers inched closer to his groin, while her other hand stroked the dabo wheel. “I know how humans like to roll.” She was very close to him now, the scent of her perfume overwhelming. Tom let her fingers wander as she pressed her lips to his cheek, but after a moment, he gently moved her hand away.

“I’m sorry,” he said. “I just—” he paused. He couldn’t _what_? The last thing he needed right now was for someone to feel sorry for him. He pulled out a couple of strips of latinum. “This isn’t going to work out.” He got up so quickly that he nearly knocked over his chair. Aranza’s lips turned into a pretty pout, but Tom didn’t care. He went back to the bar to order another drink, but the bartender was nowhere to be found.

Finally, Tom spotted him in a conversation with a Starfleet officer, engineering or operations or perhaps security, by the look of uniform, and young too – only one pip on his collar. Tom leaned forward, trying to catch the bartender’s eye, but with no success.

The bartender said conversationally, “If I may say so, it's been my special pleasure to see many new officers like yourself come through these doors. Your parents must be very proud, my boy. You know, on an occasion like this.”

The young officer responded, “I'm really not interested.”

The bartender jerked back, almost horrified at the comment. “ _Interested_?”

“You were about to try to sell me something, right?”

“I was merely going to suggest that your parents might appreciate a memento of your first mission.”

The Starfleet officer just seemed amused by the comment. “And you happen to have several to choose from?”

“I do carry a select line of unique artifacts and gemstones indigenous to this region. Why, quite recently, I acquired these Lobi crystals from a very strange creature called a Morn.”

Tom blinked. Morn? In all of his travels and dealings, he’d never come across a species called the Morn. He was about to make a mental note to look it up when he heard a guffaw from his left. He turned to see an alien of a species he’d never seen before – long smooth head, no body hair, and small eyes very close to each other – similar in appearance to a terran walrus. The alien must have taken the seat just after Tom and he was watching the interaction just as closely as Tom was.

“Watch, he’ll give in. They always do,” the man said sotto voce to Tom. “It’s impossible to say no to Quark.”

“That’s Quark? The owner of this establishment?” Tom asked.

“Yes. Best businessman in the quadrant.” The alien shifted his large body, so he was facing Tom. “Do you know he has been here since the Cardassians? Quark knows everyone, everything. There isn’t anything at all that he doesn’t know. And that’s the secret of success, so perfectly encapsulated in the 7th Rule of Acquisition: always keep your ears open.” The alien droned on for another few minutes, and Tom gave up on trying to pay attention. “If you ever need to learn how to be successful in business, Quark is your man.”

“That’s good to know,” Tom said, knowing that there were many others in the quadrant, possibly on this station, who would also claim that title. He’d met far too many of them during his wanderlust days and he very much knew about the type who didn’t take no for an answer; he still had a few of the scars left from those conversations. “He likes to take advantage of young Starfleet officers?”

“Only those who want to be taken advantage of.”

“Ah, I see,” Tom said. “And you are?”

“Morn.”

Tom shook his head, partly in amusement, partly in dismay. “So, the Lobi crystals are yours?” Tom asked, but Morn’s response was lost as Quark’s voice rose.

“Here I am, trying to be a cordial host, knowing how much a young officer's parents would appreciate a token of his love on the eve of a dangerous mission, and what do I get for my trouble? Scurrilous insults. Well, somebody's going to hear about this. What's your name, son?” Quark demanded.

The younger officer looked flustered. “My name?”

“You have one, I presume?”

“Harry Kim, but I—”

“And who was it at the Academy who warned you about Ferengi?”

Ensign Kim said hastily, “You know, I think a memento for my parents would be a great idea.”  
  
“Oh, no, no, no, no, no,” Quark said, looking as indignant as he possibly could. Tom gave up on getting another drink as he watched Kim fish around in the open case Quark had offered him.

“Really. What are these?” Kim held up a shining gem. “It would make a great pendant for my mother.”

Quark nodded enthusiastically “Or cufflinks for your father.”

“Cufflinks,” Kim said. “Great idea.”

Tom bit back his smile. He’d last worn cufflinks at his sister Moira's wedding, and once the ceremony was over, he’d promptly recycled them, even though his sister Kathleen had tried to talk him out of it.

“They're not for sale,” Quark said with a haughty air. “Now, inform your commanding officer that the Federation Council can expect an official query.”

This comment seemed to fluster Kim even more. Tom heard Morn chortle at the hapless ensign’s predicament.

“How much for the entire tray?” Kim asked quickly, desperation clear on his face. Tom got to his feet. Enough was enough.  
  
“Cash or credit?” Quark asked brightly.

Tom swooped in at that moment. “Dazzling, aren't they? As bright as a Koladan diamond.”

Quark narrowed his eyes. “Brighter.”

“Hard to believe you can find them on any planet in the system,” Tom said easily.

It took Quark a moment to digest. “That's an exaggeration.”

Tom shook his head. He’d transported an entire cargo of Koldan diamonds for a merchant employed by the Orion syndicate from a nearby world to Rigel. “You know, there's a shop at the Volnar Colony that sells a dozen assorted shapes for one Cardassian lek.” He pointed to the box. “How much are you selling these for?”

“We were just about to negotiate the price,” Quark said, his demeanor unruffled. Tom chuckled lightly. He clapped Kim on the shoulder, nudging him to the exit.

“Come on,” Tom said. As they walked onto the crowded Promenade, Tom looked at the young man by his side. “Didn't they warn you about Ferengi at the Academy?”

“Yeah, but reading about their negotiation skills versus experiencing it, that’s two different things,” Kim said, his cheeks turning pink. “Thanks, by the way, for saving me from giving up a month’s pay.”

At that Tom laughed. “A month? It’s unlikely Quark would have settled for less than six. You’d have been lucky to get out of there at 12 months’ worth.”

At this, Kim blanched. “I guess I really do owe you then.” He extended his hand. “I’m Harry Kim."

“Tom Paris.”

“Nice to meet you.”

“First time on DS9?”

Harry nodded. “First mission in fact. I just graduated from the Academy in December.” He sidestepped a Bolian. “I’m in Operations. You?”

The uniform Tom had been assigned was command red, but command decidedly Tom was not. In fact, he was unsure whether he would even be allowed on the bridge during the mission. Given Cavit’s animosity towards him, he wondered. There was always the possibility that Janeway would _want_ him on the bridge, but he hadn’t spoken to her outside of their brief exchange shortly after she’d boarded _Voyager_ back at Utopia Planitia. That had been nearly ten days ago. Tom decided to try the truth. “I’m an observer,” he said.

“I’ve never heard of that role before.”

“You wouldn’t be the first to tell me that,” Tom said. “So, I’m assuming you aren’t assigned to Deep Space Nine or you would have been able to navigate Quark better.”

“No, _Voyager_.”

Tom stopped short. “Me too.”

Harry turned to Tom. “Really? I haven’t seen you on board.”

“I’m sure you’ve been busy.”

“You don’t eat in the mess hall?”

“No.”

“Sounds boring.”

“I like the time to prepare for the mission.” Tom felt mildly defensive. “Last night, I reviewed flight plans with the chief pilot, and we ate in her quarters to maximize time.”

Harry raised his eyebrow. “That’s a lot of maximization,” he said in a tone that made it very clear that he didn’t believe that the only thing Stadi and Tom were doing was reviewing flight plans. “You should come to the mess hall, meet people.” Harry shrugged. “I know it’s only a few weeks, but it’s good to get to know who you’re serving with. Never know who you might run into on your next assignment.”

Tom smiled. Harry’s earnestness reminded him of how he’d been when he’d first gotten assigned to the _Exeter_. “You’re right about that,” Tom said, as they made the turn onto the docking bay. “Good advice.”

They stood in line with other personnel who were boarding _Voyager_.

“So, Koldan diamonds,” Harry said. “You know where to get some for a good price?”

“Sure,” Tom said. “You’re really interested in those? That pendant for your mother?”

“No, actually. I’m thinking when we get back, I’m going to propose to my girlfriend.”

Tom raised his eyebrow. “Congratulations.”

“Thanks. I hope she says yes.”

“Is she Starfleet too?”

Harry shook his head. “No. She’s a veterinarian. Or will be, when she finishes school.”

“Well, hopefully your next assignment is a ship where civilians are allowed,” Tom said. He took a few steps forward as the line advanced.

“That’s what I’m hoping, but to be honest, I hope I get to stay on _Voyager_. From what little I’ve seen of Captain Janeway, she seems like a great commander. I could learn a lot from her.”

“Follow your own advice and you might get what you want,” Tom said. He gave his name to the security officer and once authenticated through a retinal scan, he took a step to the side to wait for Harry.

“What about you?” Harry said as they walked down the corridor and through _Voyager’_ s boarding gate.

“I like to keep my plans open,” Tom said easily. “I don’t know what the future holds, and I like that.”

They boarded the turbolift and Harry asked for deck 1. This was another surprise.

“You’re going to the bridge?” Tom asked.

“Yeah. Just need to do one last check in before we depart tonight,” Harry said. “I want to make sure I didn’t miss anything. Should be done by 1800 though, if you want to meet in the mess hall for dinner?”

“Sure,” Tom said. With departure set for that evening, he was certain he wouldn’t be maximizing time with Stadi. It would be good to meet some of the other crew, even if he had no intention of forming connections. “See you then.”


	3. Chapter 3

Tom spent the remainder of the afternoon in his quarters, wondering when his next assignment would come up. But his comm remained silent. Nothing from Janeway or Cavit, or even Stadi. Stadi had mentioned an all-day meeting so Tom decided not to focus too much on her silence. Once _Voyager_ entered the Badlands, he had no doubt that he would be called to the bridge to offer his expertise in person, perhaps even navigate the ship.

He quickly pushed that thought away. He had looked over _Voyager’_ s flight manuals with Stadi, and many of the operational aspects were similar to the _Exeter_. In that sense, Starfleet’s engineering designs were very consistent, making it somewhat easy to transfer piloting expertise from one ship to another. That being said, he hadn’t been specifically trained on Intrepid _-_ class ships like Stadi had been, and it was foolish to think that they would let him sit at the helm just like that in one of the more complex and dangerous systems out there.

When he’d flown Chakotay’s ship, the _Val Jean_ , that craft had been surprisingly nimble at navigating the various eddies and gravimetric sheers that were characteristic of the Badlands. When he’d first laid eyes on it, Tom had been convinced that there was no way the vessel was space worthy.

“You’re taking _this_ into the Badlands?” Tom had turned to Chakotay in surprise.

Chakotay nodded, his expression surprised, as if it had never occurred to him to doubt whether the _Val Jean_ could hold together. “B’Elanna has made a lot of adjustments,” Chakotay said. “You can talk to her about it, but the new propulsion system and navigational sensors we got from the last raid should make it easier for us to hide.”

Tom had circled the ship, carefully inspection the exterior, and noting the way the ship seemed to have been cobbled together. He saw parts from of Bajoran origin, a few Klingon and Cardassian pieces, and then a whole lot of Federation technology. He’d turned to see Chakotay eyeing him speculatively. And Chakotay was no longer alone; a brunette had joined him.

“Is this the new pilot?” the Bajoran woman had asked. “Where did you find him anyway? Can he be trusted?”

“Tom Paris.”

“Seska.”

“Nice to meet you.”

Seska narrowed her eyes, pulled her lips into a thin line, giving her face a pinched appearance. “You sure about this one, Chakotay?” She circled Tom, inspecting him in the same manner as he’d looked over the _Val Jean._ “He’s got Starfleet written all over him.”

“Found him passed out in a bar on Volnar Colony. Paid his tab and cleaned him up,” Chakotay said as if Tom wasn’t standing _right_ there. “Says he can fly.”

“And you’re taking his word for it?” Seska shook her head in disbelief. “Just what we need. A drunk of undetermined origin who looks like Starfleet in our midst.”

“I’m a damn fine pilot,” Tom said hotly. “And you’re right. I was Starfleet. _USS Exeter_. I’m sure one of your intelligence officers or maybe one of your moles back in HQ can dig up my whole sorry record for you. I’ll give you the punchline now, so you don’t have to wait for it: I was dishonorably discharged from Starfleet and my father’s an admiral. Admiral Owen Paris. The Cardassians tortured him and he hasn’t been the same since. I’d ask him about it, but he doesn’t really talk to me.” He lifted his chin to defiantly meet Seska’s gaze. “I got kicked out of Starfleet. I like women and I like drink, but I like to fly more and I have a score to settle with the Cardassians. So here I am.”

Chakotay turned a bemused eye in Seska’s direction. “He also talks too much,” Chakotay said. He shifted his attention back to Tom. “B’Elanna should be back from her raid in the next few hours. She can tell you what you want to know about the ship.”

Seska didn’t quite look convinced as Chakotay turned to walk away. She said in a low voice, “Chakotay is a fool, but I’m not.”

“I didn’t think you were,” Tom said.

“I’m watching you. At the first sign of betrayal,” Seska placed her hand on the knife sheathed at her side, “I won’t hesitate to take action.”

“I believe it, and don’t worry,” Tom said. “As long as Chakotay pays me, that’s all I care about.”

Seska’s expression hardened. “Must be nice,” she said coolly, “to be so mercenary, to not care about anything but the money.”

Now, alone in his quarters, Tom wondered what it would be like to see his former Maquis cell again. Should he apologize for getting captured on the very first mission he ran for them? Or should he apologize for being part of the crew sent to capture them? Maybe it was best to say nothing at all.

He didn’t quite know what Janeway and Cavit had planned for when they did indeed find Chakotay’s ship. Would they beam the Maquis aboard _Voyager_ and imprison them in one of the cargo bays? He was pretty sure the _Val Jean_ wouldn’t survive a tractor beam out of the Badlands but who knew what sort of engineering sorcery B’Elanna Torres had conjured up over the last nine months or so?

A quick look at the chronometer reminded him it was time to meet Harry Kim in the mess hall. On the way, Tom passed a few officers who nodded at him, but seemed otherwise reserved. The mess hall was starting to fill up for the start of gamma shift. He didn’t see Harry Kim, but he did see Veronica Stadi sitting by herself at a table for four by the viewport. The all-day senior staff meeting must have come to an end. He smiled to himself and ordered a bowl of tomato soup.

“There are fourteen varieties of tomato soup available from this replicator. With rice, with vegetables, Bolian style, with pasta, with—” the computer intoned.

“Plain,” Tom said, wondering when tomato soup had gotten so byzantine. He was decidedly not complicated, and he liked his food to be simple as well. He glanced over his shoulder; Stadi was still at her seat.

“Specify hot or chilled.”

Tom sighed in exasperation. With a bit of an edge, he said, “Hot. Hot, plain, tomato soup.”

The bowl materialized and Tom made his way, gingerly as not to spill the soup, to Stadi’s table.

“Hi,” he said, putting the bowl down. “Mind some company?”

Veronica looked up. Her dark eyes were decidedly not as warm and inviting as they had been twelve hours earlier. “Actually, I do,” she said. She gestured at the PADD in front of her. “I just have some last-minute things to review before we leave for the Badlands. This isn’t the same as the shakedown cruise from Utopia Planitia and—”

“You don’t want to be distracted,” Tom said. “I get it.” He took in the navigational charts clearly displayed on the PADD. “I’m familiar with that area. My first test run on the _Val Jean_ went through there. The plasma storms can be vicious. The turbulence can wreak havoc on even the strongest of stomachs.”

“Thanks for the warning, but I think I’ve got it,” Stadi said firmly.

“All right, I’ll leave you to it.” He paused. “You won’t need it, but good luck tonight.”

The barest hint of a smile appeared on Stadi’s lips. “Thanks.” She took a deep breath. “I do appreciate all your help, but this is something I have to do alone.”

“That’s not necessary, you know.” Tom furrowed his brow. “I _was_ brought on board because of my expertise—”

“And you weren’t completely honest with me about the source of that expertise, were you?” there was a harsh quality underlying Stadi’s outburst.

“What do you mean?”

“That you were one of _them_ , a Maquis.”

“Well, not quite,” Tom said. “They hired me to fly for them.”

“Same thing.” Stadi set her jaw. “You sell your services to the highest bidder.”

Tom shrugged. “I wouldn’t go that far. No one is paying me to be here.”

“Commander Cavit let me know today that you were in jail and that your service on this mission will gain your freedom,” Stadi said. Her cheeks flushed and eyes were sparking with emotion. “I’ve got everything on the line here, Tom. I _want_ to be on _Voyager’s_ next mission. This posting is a dream come true and flying _Voyager_ is what I always imagined for myself.”

Tom stared at her, flabbergasted. “And associating with me is too big a risk? Do you know what _I_ have on the line? If I don’t pull my weight, if I don’t do exactly what Captain Janeway tells me to do, I’m going back to that jail and that’s the absolute last thing _I_ want.”

“And speaking of Janeway, when were you going to tell me that she’s married to your father?” her voice rose slightly, attracting attention at the table closest to them.

Tom sucked his breath in. “I didn’t think it mattered.”

“Which doesn’t negate the fact that you’re a convicted felon. Do you think any other captain would have brought you on board? I don’t think so. Say whatever you want, but you’re here because of Kathryn Janeway.” Stadi picked up her PADD. “Look, Tom, I had a lot of fun with you. Last night was great, but that’s all it can be.” She gave him a look that was half disgust, half apology. “Thanks again for all of your help.”

Tom swallowed hard. He was aware that everyone in the mess hall was staring at them. He could feel the heat rising in his face. Numbly, he sat down at the table Stadi had just vacated. The tomato soup had cooled considerably, and he dropped his spoon, his appetite all but gone. Maybe he should hail Janeway, tell her that this wasn’t going to work, that she should just let him off here at DS9, throw him in the brig if necessary. If everyone was going to react to him the way Stadi just had, then what was the point?

He was still contemplating this plan of action when Harry Kim approached with a full dinner tray. He put it down and sat opposite of Tom.

“Hey, sorry I’m late,” Harry said easily. “Got caught up in a few things and lost track of time. You know how it is.”

“Yeah.” Tom cleared his throat. There was a hollow feeling in his chest, as if it was hard to breathe normally. “You really want to be seen with me?”

Harry appeared bewildered. “What do you mean?”

Tom leaned back in his chair, crossing his arms against his chest. “I mean, I’m sure you must have heard all about my sordid past by now.”

Harry shrugged. “Everyone makes mistakes.”

“What about Captain Janeway?”

“What about her?”

“She’s my stepmother.”

“Commander Cavit made a point of telling me that. He saw us standing in the security line together on DS9.”

Tom ran his hands through his hair in exasperation. Finally, he said, “It’s okay, you know, if you don’t want to risk your career. If being seen with a convicted felon is going to hurt your chances for your next posting.”

Harry put his hamburger down. “No one picks my friends for me,” Harry said firmly. “I don’t care what Commander Cavit says.”

“Bold statement for someone just a month out of the Academy.”

A slow smile spread across Harry’s face. “Might be I’ve been a pretty good judge of character in the past and I’m trusting my instincts. Besides, once we’re done with this mission, I’m going to need your help on getting a good price on a diamond on Volnar Colony.”

Tom laughed. He extended his hand and Harry took it firmly. “Deal,” Tom said.

_~ the end_


End file.
